Most Storms Internal

Most storms internal:

Sunday evening, Could gripe about work, But I work from my home. Could gripe about the Superbowl, But I am beyond participation in the herd.

Like me, America once was not, And will be not again. Could grieve, But Freedom ultimately means from America too.

What is an American who has more in common with 12th century Sufis? A being in ascent.

What is a man who takes his shortcomings as proof of the unreliability of form? A foot in two worlds.

First hullabaloo, Then frustration, Then anger, Then tears, Then peace.

Tender is the heart that grows silent, And makes space for other hearts.

Sorrow be my name. Good will be my aim. Forgiving for they know not. Letting go of the reigns.

Hush.

My mind will be full of two things: music and silence. My heart will be full of two things: music and silence. My soul will be full of two things: music and silence. My spirit will be full of two things: music and silence. My cosmos will be full of two things: music and silence.

Prose lifts off into poetry. Poetry to song. Song to music. Music to prayer. Prayer to exaltation. Exaltation to home.